BIOSHOCK - THE SERIES: PILOT (TEASER)
INT. WAREHOUSE SPACE. NIGHT.
Darkness and gloom fill this space - lighting is sparse, isolated sources hinting at the piles of miscellaneous junk strewn about. Columns are spaced at regular intervals, supporting the vaulted roof. The walls are dark, reflecting almost nothing. A bit of dark blue light pours through a few slats in the walls; if we were close enough to it, we’d recognize the ‘outside’ as being underwater. For a warehouse space, there’s an odd hint of Gothic architecture and design, as if this area once had a grander purpose.
Two men root amongst the piles of old furniture, antiquated office equipment and miscellaneous garbage - the types of things you might find if an office supply company had a going-out-of-business sale. Their clothing is akin to that worn by dock-workers in the 1950s, and excessively well-worn and patched up. Although both men are in their 30s, their complexions are pasty and haggard, as if they’ve lived hard lives and haven’t seen the sun in decades. They are ARLES (thin with a scraggly beard) and BOLT (larger, muscled, with a bald head).
Bolt turns from scanning around at the walls and ceiling to face Arles. Bolt talks in a hushed tone.
He hops over to where Arles is digging through an old filing cabinet.
And keep your voice down!
Arles nods in acknowledgement, then holds out his hand.
Arles shows Bolt some loose batteries, an empty syringe and 3 bullets.
A couple of dead batteries? Real jackpot. I’ll take those bullets though.
He reaches for them, but Arles is quick to pull his hand away.
You can trade me for them later, if you have anything worth trading. And those batteries aren’t useless - maybe Pablo or Atlas can-
Before he can finish his sentence, there’s a rustling from up above. Instinctively, both men go silent and draw small, old looking revolvers from their belts. They both squint as they scan the ceiling, pointing their guns towards the darkness.
In the shadows above, we can just make out a 3 foot by 3 foot hole in the ceiling. Another rustling, and a slight banging from above. A few scraps float down from the gloom and Bolt grabs at them, catching one - a dead rose petal.
(Hissing the words quietly)
The two start slowly backing away, looking very nervous - eyes scanning the ceiling.
We hear her before we see her - she is ROSE (age and character traits unclear), wiry and acrobatic, half a mask covers her face - the briefest hint at the uncovered half showing horrible scars. Her voice is the type of gravelly, sexy, smoky variety found in old lounge singers, but with a menace and ‘hiss’ to it. She moves in shadow, so we can never quite make out her features.
What crawls in my garden?
Arles and Bolt turn to run.
We hear the clank-clank-clank of movement. Overhead, we can just make out the silhouette of Rose slip out of the hole and latch on to the ceiling. She crawls across it, crab-style, moving with a speed that matches the two men.
Bolt stops on the spot and spins around.
How about THIS NOW?
Bolt fires off 2 shots, the bullets disappearing into the darkness, hitting nothing.
Arles turns, raises his gun, pulls the trigger...
The gun is empty. His hands shaking, Arles pulls his new-found bullets from his pocket.
Rose speedily moves across the ceiling, closing in on the position above the two men.
Arles hesitates a moment to look up - and inadvertently drops one of the bullets.
He nervously loads the other two bullets into the chamber, quickly raises the gun again and squeezes off one shot...
...before he can get off another, we hear the distinct whistling sound of something whipping through the air...
A blade, not much more than a few inches in length, lodges into his left thigh...
...and another into his right hand. He screams as he pulls the trigger in reflex - the shot going off at an odd angle into the darkness. He drops behind a pile of furniture.
Come back to me!
Bolt scans the darkness, waving his gun back and forth trying to lock in on his target. He fires, emptying the gun. It clicks and he ducks down behind a nearby column for protection.
INT. WAREHOUSE SPACE. BARRICADE. NIGHT. CONTINUOUS.
Arles cries out as he pulls the two blades from his body.
He looks to his right and sees the lone dropped bullet, sitting in the pathway just outside of the barricade.
INT. WAREHOUSE SPACE. COLUMN. NIGHT. CONTINUOUS.
Bolt looks down at his left hand and clenches it, making 3 quick ‘fists.’ Whatever he’s expecting, he’s not happy about the lack of results. He quickly rolls up his left sleeve. We see what looks like a thin blue ‘tattoo line’ running from his elbow down to his wrist.
Patting around his person, he pulls a small, fabric-wrapped package from his shirt pocket. He quickly unrolls it, revealing a hypodermic needle filled with a slightly-glowing blue liquid.
He looks at it and his face tightens - this is some type of big decision for him.
WHY do you RUN? WHY do you HIDE?
He looks at his left arm, takes a deep breath... As he’s about to jam the needle into his arm, we hear the familiar sound of knives cutting through air. One blade lodges into his left arm and another knocks the syringe off against a large stone. The syringe cracks, the blue liquid pouring away down the edges of the rock.
Bolt scrambles around the column to try to find more cover.
I’ll wrap you in a SHEET!